A Different Perspective
by OneCardTooMany
Summary: A look at the Winchester's relationship from an outsider's perspective. Wincest
1. Jared's Perspective

**The rating is due to language and sexual situations. (It might be 'M' just to be on the safe side.)**

**Author's note:**

**Hello! My first work ever posted! Yay! It was supposed to be a one-shot... but it got so long that I chopped it in two. The second half should be coming out in a few days, as soon as I finish and edit it. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own error. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. Anyways, on with the show!**

**The typical disclaimer that no, sadly I do not own these characters.**

**A Different Perspective**

**Chapter 1: Jared's Perspective**

* * *

Jared Mclean was sitting at his desk filling out paperwork for the string of corpses that had been coming into the coroner's when the federal agents walked in. He glanced up from writing and watched the agents look around. When they spotted him through the window in his office, they walked over and knocked on his door. He beckoned them in and motioned that they sit.

They were both fairly tall, and wore crisp, black suits with different coloured ties. One was taller than the other, and had longer brown hair that fell slightly into his face in bangs. Jared wondered if it was too long for dress code. The other agent had shorter brown hair and intense green eyes. They looked quite young to be FBI agents. Maybe they were the prodigy of their training group or some high up's sons.

The shorter one spoke up first, "Hello. I'm Agent Philip Torres and this is my partner Agent Michael Watson."

They both pulled out their FBI badges from a pocket inside their jackets in sync, in one smooth motion. They put them away with the same smooth grace. Jared nodded and he continued, "We're here about the three bodies that have turned up."

He glanced up, and Jared looked into green eyes, and realized that that was an invitation for him to start talking.

"Well, I'm Jared," he started as he stood up, "The first body showed up about two weeks ago."

Jared started walking out the door of his office, with the two agents trailing behind him as he continued his explanation, "The second body turned up about five days ago, and the third body just a couple days ago."

Jared flicked on the lights as he walked into the body storage room. Inside, it was all sterile metal surfaces, the floor, the wall of drawers, and the large operating table. He walked over to the drawer that contained the first body.

"I hope you're not squeamish," he commented as he pulled it open. He rolled it out, displaying the white sheet covered body.

"The cause of death is an animal attack," Jared said as he pulled back the sheet to the corpse's ankles.

The corpse was male, and fairly tall. He had blond hair, but the most eye-catching thing about him was his wounds. His chest was torn open, exposing his organs, but even those had claws marks on them. There were gashes on his legs and arms as well. There were bruises on his hips and around his wrists. Jared really didn't like this case. Something was weird about it, and he wondered if the agents would ask about it. They were carefully looking over the body, and seemed to have no qualms about the body being gruesome. Jared didn't miss the glance that passed between the two partners. The taller one gave a small nod before turning to Jared.

"What about these bruises?" He asked, lifting one of the man's wrists.

So they had noticed. The agents were very observant, and didn't seem put off by the least at viewing the man's slaughtered remains. Jared paused. What could he tell them? The facts were bizarre themselves...

"We don't know," he finally concluded, "They look to be in the shape of a human hand print, but that would be crazy right?"

He glanced back and forth between Agent Torres and Agent Watson. They stared back, their expressions neutral.

Agent Torres spoke up, "Is there anything... weird about this body? Anything strange that you found?"

He watched Jared closely as he waited for an answer. Jared shifted his weight for a moment considering telling them. They would think it's crazy though. But, solving this mess was their problem he reflected. Then, he wouldn't have to solve it or worry about it.

"Well," Jared started, speaking softly, "There appears to be hand print shaped bruises on his wrists and hips. On top of that, he was raped before he was killed."

He watched them as he talked, and once again they shared what seemed like an important look. Jared was just glad they didn't laugh or scoff at him. He wondered what they thought about the facts. The agents stopped their little staring contest and turned to him.

"Thank you. So what is the victim's profile?" Agent Watson asked.

Jared pulled the sheet over the corpse once again, and slid the drawer shut.

"That was Mark Romeyn and he was 18. He was found in the forest near Brooks Meadow Park."

Jared looked back at the agents, and they both seemed deep in thought.

"What was his address? Do you have it?" The longer haired one asked.

Jared sifted through some files in a cabinet off to the side of the room before pulling out one. He held it up to the agents.

"Did you want me to make a copy of it? It has all the information about Mark."

"That would be really helpful," Agent Watson replied, sounding grateful.

Jared nodded and walked out of the room, to his office where he had a printer. He turned it on, and waited while it warmed up, emitting its 'turn on' sound. He photocopied the file and turned off the printer as he left the room. He fingered the still warm pages and wondered what the FBI agents were making of this mess. As he was walked nearer, he could see them talking quietly and rapidly to each other. He paused for a moment just watching, as his curiosity took over. They were standing close together, and they were completely focused on each other. Occasionally they gestured with their arms as they talked. They both were frowning slightly, their brows wrinkled. He snapped himself out of his kind of creepy watching and walked into the room. He only just caught the tail end of the shorter man's sentence, "...something we don't know of."

A small twitch of the taller man's eyebrow had the Agent Torres glancing over at him and stepping back from Agent Watson. Jared pretended not to notice their interaction and handed the photocopy to Agent Watson, who was closer to him. He put the original file away and paused. He turned around and said, "I'm guessing you would like the other files on the other victims?"

A slightly tight looking smile from Agent Watson was all the answer he needed. He started rooting through the cabinet again, looking for both files. Once he found them he started from the room again saying, "I guess you can ponder the mysteries of the universe until I get back."

He quickly photocopied the files, wanting to eavesdrop again. He wanted to know their thoughts on the problem, but knew it wasn't in his place to ask. So he hurried back down the hallway and glanced in the window. He was disappointed to find that, even though they were talking, they kept glancing up to check if he was coming. So much for his plan. He walked in, and once again handed the files to the taller agent. He carefully filed the papers away.

"Did all the victims die the same way? Same bruises? Were all of them raped?" The shorter one spoke up this time. Jared replied with an affirmative as he put the files in their original place in the drawer.

"Were all the victims male and around the same age?" The taller agent asked.

"Yes. Would you like to see the bodies?" Jared replied.

"That would be best." Agent Torres answered.

So Jared showed them both of the bodies. The second victim was Tyler Jackle, age 19. He too was ripped open by something with claws and teeth. This time, Jared watched the agents study the body. They were very thorough. They lifted his hands, looked at the fingernails, looked at the bottom of his feet, and studied his wounds pretty closely. They even looked in his mouth at one point. For what, Jared didn't know. They did the same routine with the third body as well, Simeon Johnston.

By the time Jared had rolled all the bodies back in their cooled storage, the agents had very perplexed looks on their faces. They kept exchanging looks, which Jared took to notice, seemed their form of silent communication. They thanked him for his time as they left. He was mildly surprised. He had gotten less than that from other FBI agents. These ones hadn't been very bad at all. Some of the agents he had had to deal with were complete dicks; rude to him, uncaring of how hard he had worked, or making him stay overtime just to please them.

He was quite curious about these agents for sure. So they were good at their job from what he could tell. Maybe he had been right about them being the prodigies. He couldn't quite figure out how well they got along and communicated though. From his experience, people only got that good at deciphering looks when they had worked together all their lives. Those agents looked far too young for that. And yet, they seemed to be talking with out actually saying anything out loud. He also wondered at what they had seen to make them not even flinch or cringe at such mauled bodies.

He pondered them as he wiped down the storage room one last time before going back to his paperwork.

* * *

A new body was brought in on Wednesday, matching the three other victims that had been found. As Jared stored the corpse away, he guessed that the agents would be back. He was right. They strode in, not half an hour later, looking for all the world like they belonged there. He wondered where they got their confidence from. As they walked towards him, he looked out the window and couldn't help but notice the car they had just gotten out of, wasn't a cruiser or any other company vehicle. It was a long, black car. It looked old, back when cars were built big, not compact. That couldn't be company policy right? How had they managed to get that one past their bosses?

"Jared," They both nodded to him as they stopped in front of him.

"So, the new body? Right this way," Jared replied as he headed once again to the cold storage.

He pulled the drawer out and the agents stepped forward, on either side of the corpse. The sheet was pulled back to expose the latest kill. He was quite short and young, though he had quite an unattractive face. His chest was torn open, same as the other victims. As the agents studied the body, Jared walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the file right away; he had guessed they would want it.

"You want this one too?" He waved the file over his head.

"Yeah," the Agent Torres said absent mindedly as he studied the corpse.

As Jared photocopied the file, he wondered how people could do this for a living. It was so boring and dull, doing the same thing day after day, just photocopying pages. He returned fairly quickly, dodging a few of his co-workers in the hall. He wasn't even trying to approach the agents quietly, but he managed to enter the room and hear their last sentence with out even trying to eavesdrop.

"...go back and research like there's no tomorrow."

They both glanced up when they heard him enter. He gave them the file and put away the original properly. When he looked up, Agent Watson was looking over the paper and Agent Torres was covering the corpse back up again.

"Thank you," they nodded to him and left. He rolled back the corpse and locked it up again. He glanced at the clock and was glad to see he had a break now. It would be nice to fit in a smoke before he had to fill in _more_ paperwork. He hated paperwork; it was so time consuming and dull. He slipped his keys in his pocket and walked to his office, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He shut the drawer again and gave his small office one last look.

It was a pretty dull office. It had a wooden desk in the back corner with his computer sitting on it, paper strewn over the rest of the surface. Two chairs were set up in front of his desk, facing it. He never had many people sitting in his office though. A few generic pictures hung on the wall, probably some small-time painter who sold lots of prints. A small office water cooler stood in one corner near the door, half full. A filing cabinet stood in the other door, and Jared shuddered, thinking of how much paperwork he had completed and filled it with. Why couldn't he have chosen a job with less of it? He clicked off the lights and shut and locked the door as he walked towards the back exit which led to a back alley. Perfect for a smoke break.

He wound his way through the halls and past co-workers' offices until he came across the door which had an exit sign over it. It was situated next to the bathrooms. He pushed open the door and stepped out onto the steps outside. It was a cloudy day, in between cold and warm. The back alley ran both ways until it hit main streets farther down. There were a couple of other doors along the way and a few grungy dumpsters. There was lots of litter and it smelled like urine and old garbage or food waste. Jared didn't mind it though. He got lots of privacy out here and lots of time to think. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up, puffing out his first breath of smoke. He could almost feel the effect instantly. He felt calmer and his thoughts seemed more organized and focused. He loved the effect that smoking had to his thoughts. He felt that he was smarter after the first puff.

As he stood smoking and relaxing, he faintly heard voices. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he walked down the steps and toward a second alley way that connected to the one he was on. He peaked around the corner and was surprised to see Agent Torres and Watson talking, standing behind a dumpster, out of sight from the main road.

"Sam, we can research later. Right now, why don't we go back to our hotel and..."

"Dean no, we're on a job. Let's go to the library. The sooner we find out what this thing is, the better," The tall agent said stubbornly, as he folded his arms across his chest.

Jared's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Didn't they introduce themselves as Philip and Michael...? Why were they calling each other different names? His mind raced through many possibilities. Maybe Sam and Dean were nicknames? But they had nothing to do with their original names. Maybe those were their middle names and they preferred to be called that? But that theory seemed way out there. They couldn't... No... Could they possibly have fake IDs...? Jared had seen many spy movies, and that seemed to be a popular reoccurrence, but no one really did that in real life, right? All the possibilities that Jared could think of seemed far-fetched and impossible.

"All work and no play makes Sam a very dull boy..." The shorter agent taunted. When that didn't work, he tried again. "Aw, come on Sammy. You look so hot in your suit..." Agent Torres sidled closer to the other agent, before pressing his body against the other man. He leaned his face in, just inches apart before he kissed him softly.

Jared's eyebrows shot up in surprise. So that was what their relationship was... That might explain how they could communicate so well and always seemed to know what the other was thinking. Well, he certainly wouldn't have pegged them as gay; they could probably get any girl they wanted. This was certainly unexpected...

"Besides, it's your fault for teasing me this morning," He said, his lips just inches from the taller man's. Agent Watson snorted, but unfolded his arms nonetheless. Agent Torres paused a moment before crushing their lips together and wrapping his arms around the other agent. The man held off for a few seconds before he was kissing him back just as hard. Agent Torres pushed the other man against the wall and pinned him there with his body, kissing him frantically. The taller man made a sound of protest, and when the one with the shorter hair started attacking his neck he spoke, "Dean n-not against this wall. It's filthy!" But he was ignored, and as the man pinning him there did something, he moaned softly and didn't put up any more resistance. Their mouths crashed together again and hands were everywhere, running up and down arms and shoulders, tugging on hair, and rubbing down backs. When they broke apart, they stood panting, just staring at each other.

Jared couldn't help feel uncomfortable. He should stop watching right? Duck around the corner and finish smoking his forgotten cigarette right? He felt like he was watching some live version of porn, like any minute now, they would attack each other frantically and undress each other. He had never seen a couple look so intense before. Their kissing seemed to have an edge of desperation to it, and it added to the whole odd atmosphere. While he had seen other couples kiss and make out, this was much different. Something about the way these two guys crashed together powerfully, like there was much more beneath the surface or something. And besides, watching two guys make out, that was considered perverted right? Voyeurism right?

"Should we... take this to the hotel?" Agent Watson panted out.

"Mmm... yes," The other agent murmured, but he attacked the other man's mouth and pressed his thigh between his legs, not making any move to continue this somewhere else. The taller one groaned and his hands slid down to cup his lover's ass; a moment later though, he was pushing him away.

"N-no... Dean - no. Hotel," He panted out, trying to hold the shorter man at bay. He just growled and started sucking on his neck. "Deaahhh..." Whatever he was trying to say trailed off in a moan. Agent Torres bit down on the other agent's neck and he squirmed, gasping at the feeling.

"D-Dean, someone... might -ah- see," he tried again, his hands pawing at his shoulders.

"Don't care," came the huffed out response.

"Dean, Dean -Dean!" The taller agent finally pushed his partner away. "You can ravage me all you want at the hotel. Let's just get there okay?"

His partner stood there, looking up and down his form, taking in the now rumpled suit, messy hair, flushed face and swollen lips. He licked his lips before replying, "Fine."

They waited a moment, just watching each other, trying to calm down before they walked towards the entrance of the alley, adjusting their pants.

Jared stared after them, standing there until they were long gone, his mouth agape at what he had just seen. That was... wow. He swallowed and looked at his long forgotten cigarette lying on the ground. He shifted his weight, his mind still lost in his thoughts. So they were going back to their hotel to... Wow. They were on a job too. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the odd feeling that settled in the back of his throat. He shifted his feet again, and noticed with a sinking feeling that he was kind of aroused, if the churning in his stomach was anything to go by. He turned slowly and walked back to the stairs, his still smoldering cigarette left where it was on the pavement. When he reached them, he fumbled for another one and lit it hurriedly, his fingers shaking slightly. He smoked it faster than he ever had, dropping the butt on the steps and crushing it with his heel. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. Wow, he was fifteen minutes over his break time. How long had he been standing there for? He got the keys out of his pocket and got them clumsily into the lock, unlocking the door and stepping through. He had paperwork to do.

* * *

Days later and he still hadn't finished the paperwork on the body that was brought in earlier that week. He had been taking as many breaks as he could, even going to the 'bathroom.' He just couldn't focus. All he could think about was what he had witnessed in the alley. Every time he started writing, the scene would dance before his eyes, and he would be left staring into the distance. He signed in frustration and decided at least he should do something to cure his curiosity. He would figure out who those men were. Obviously, there was more to the story than just agents, and he would find out. He had thought about them for days, and every possibility he could think of only made sense if they had fake IDs. He was tired of not being able to concentrate, not to mention that the mystery that was the agents plagued him all day, even at home.

He knew a little about hacking; he had picked it up along the way when he was snooping, satisfying his curiosity in other times, so he knew the basics. He would try running a facial recognition scan with the police data base. If they had any sort of criminal record, it should show up, along with their real names. He closed the paperwork he was supposed to fill out and print off and saved it, before opening one of the programs he had pain-stakingly created.

Once he had it open and running, he needed a picture of the men he was trying to find. He hacked into the FBI database with much difficulty and a lot of time. When he was finally in, he searched through all the pictures and profiles of the agents they had. Hours later and he still didn't have and luck. Where could they be? He had started first by looking at the names they had on their badges, but there was no one by those names in the FBI. By the time he had looked through all the agents, he was positive that those were fake IDs. Who the hell were these men then?

Now he was back to square one, or negative square one since he thought starting with the FBI database had been square one. He opened Google and started typing in their names. Hopefully something would show up. While he was looking for the men online, he didn't notice how late it got. Everyone went home and the janitor had already cleaned up after them. Even he would be leaving soon. Most of the lights were off in the building.

It was purely luck that he stumbled on the picture of the 'agents.' It was on an online blog, and by reading what was written, it seemed to have been written by a girl. There was a picture of them half way down the page in leather jackets leaning against the same black car he had seen earlier. They didn't seem to know that picture had been taken, and they were both smiling slightly. The picture seemed a little old, and by scrolling up he noted that the date on the entry was a couple of years ago. He went back to the top and read the little entry. As he reached the bottom, he was still confused about what he had read. It was a story about how these boys showed up and saved this girl and her family. Throughout the whole story, she didn't mention their names and she was really vague about what they had been saved from. Nonetheless, he was glad the girl decided to post it because he could use the picture. He saved the picture and exited the tab.

He opened his program and selected the chosen photo. The facial recognition created little green squares around their faces and he clicked 'okay.' A few seconds later he started the program. He watched as file names whirred past in the top right corner, faster than he could read. The picture of the men was in the top left corner with blank lines underneath where their names would go. He looked at the column where the number of hits it found were numbered. He watched the number slowly climb, sometimes every once in a while and sometimes in leaps. It took a couple of hours, but when he finally checked back from completing paperwork, it was finished. He sat down and read the screen. He was astounded to find that it came up with 27 hits. He glanced under the picture and found out that the taller man was named Sam Winchester and the shorter one was Dean Winchester. Wait, what? He re-read it to make sure. Yes. Same last name. When he continued reading, he found out that they were brothers.

Jared sat there for a moment, letting it sink it. So... they were brothers, yet they were clearly in a sexual relationship with each other. He had watched them make out for goodness' sake! And then, and then, they went back to the hotel to fuck! He just couldn't believe it. But he had seen proof. He hadn't really thought these things happened any more. In the older centuries sure, there was a lot of 'pure breeding' and marrying cousins, but this was on a whole new level. This was... this was sick! How could they? He was disgusted to be frank. He didn't even know how they could even do that! How could they even get aroused at the thought of their _brother_?

He didn't know how long he sat there, his stomach churning with slight nausea when he made the mistake of trying to put himself in their shoes. No, he definitely felt uncomfortable even trying to think about his siblings that way. Ugh. Never again. He shook his head and determinedly started reading, trying to get the thoughts out of his head. The brothers had been raised by John and Mary Winchester. Their mother had died at an early age and their father had been missing for at least six years, pretty much presumed dead. So they had had a pretty rough up bringing. The page didn't mention any address where they lived, so Jared assumed they hid out somewhere.

After he had read the basic information on the two, he turned his attention to the 27 hit pages they turned up on. He clicked on one of the first ones, and was greeted with a police report pertaining to the torture and murder of three women. He read the whole report and was amazed to find that Dean was convicted of murdering all three. They caught him red-handed, but he had killed officers and escaped. The last section of the report was what really stunned him. At the last victim's house, they had found him dead, shot three times in the chest. How was that possible? He scrolled down further, and the crime scene photos were attached, from all the victims to the picture of Dean, bloody on the floor. He sat stunned. The report said that everything matched, from the DNA to his fingerprints. How was that possible? Maybe Dean had a twin? But there was nothing in the report or anything. He terribly confused at how Dean was walking around still alive, when a report clearly found him dead. Something strange was going on here...

He clicked another page and found another police report. This one showed that they had been caught and were in custody for a short period of time. Dean was charge with five cases of murder, credit card fraud, grave desecration, and breaking and entry. That was quite the list. Wow. And he was still walking around free how? Jared was kind of scared that people this, this crazy and dangerous were still walking around. What happened to their justice system? To think he had been chatting with him just a couple of days ago with out any clue at what kind of madman he was. He had been curious about him! Watched him make out with his own brother! He took a deep breath before continuing the report. So Sam had escaped and wasn't pursued too hard because he wasn't charged for anything. The file ended saying Sam and Dean escaped with one officer dead in their wake. Wow. Crazy just followed them around. He shuddered slightly and clicked open another page.

He was slightly surprised and partially relieved to find an FBI report. So they did know about them. Hopefully they were working on catching them. He read through the report. The report was very extensive, it summarized the police records he had already found and also had lots of new information on it. He read about them holding up a bank and escaping, even though the bank was surrounded by SWAT teams. Five deaths. Wow. How was that even possible... How did more people not know about the Winchesters? Shouldn't they be on the most wanted list? He continued reading, and got the feeling that the agent assigned to this case was very frustrated. The chase had been leading on for years now. The next bit of the report documented the capture of Sam and Dean. It stated that they tripped a motion sensor in the middle of a robbery. The report also contained the agent's suspicions in the little 'notes' section, about how Sam and Dean were professionally trained, and to slip up with something so easy and simple seemed set-up somehow. Sam and Dean had gone to jail to wait for their trial. A little note on the report jumped out at Jared. There were two deaths in the prison when the brothers were there. He furrowed his brow. It didn't say that the brothers had killed them, but death seemed to follow them around. He opened a Google tab and looked up the prison. He spent a good half and hour surfing sights and reading different articles about the prison. Apparently, before the Winchesters had even arrived, there were a string of deaths there. After they left, there was no mention of any other deaths. Jared stared hard at the screen, trying to will the facts to make sense. It just didn't add up. How on earth did these men even function? What did they do? The real question was how did they get out of prison. From what he read, the prison sounded like it was locked down pretty tight. The brothers must be young Houdini's; how did they get out of their cells, past the numerous guards and cameras and then out of the building and off property on top of all that, without being seen?

Jared flipped back to the FBI report and continued reading about the frustrations of the agent at the escape of the Winchesters. So their lawyer had given them the name of a cemetery three hours before they escaped. Their lawyer was the only one that had talked to them from the outside. That was truly mysterious. Their lawyer had been interrogated and from what she said, she didn't give any information to help them get out. How did they pull it? As Jared continued to the next section, it was about a tip-off from some lady who knew the whereabouts of the brothers. They had caught them in the lady's apartment. They were brought in to the local police station and locked up tight in a cell, handcuffed together. As Jared finished the report, he had to re-read it just to make sure he got it right. The end was obviously finished by a different person than the agent that had written the rest of the report; the wording and language use was different. Apparently a helicopter had been sent to collect them to bring them to the highest security jail they could find. They weren't responding to any calls or radios, and when other police came to check it out in the early hours of the morning, they found the whole place basically obliterated. The helicopter was crashed outside, burning with police officers' bodies strewn everywhere. The police station was a wreck, and when they dragged out the bodies of other officers and Agent Hendriksen, the agent who was assigned to the Winchester case, the body count totaled sixteen. The brother's bodies were not found, but they were presumed dead.

The case had been closed for years before it was opened again, and it was opened with a bloody bang. They had video proof attached of the Winchesters holding up a bank and murdering everyone in the bank vault, smiling and laughing at the camera. The list of places they hit, brutally killing everyone in whatever location they chose, skyrocketed, and it seemed to be completely random. Each time they struck, they would make sure there was video evidence, even going as far as making a victim film their bloody act. It all came to a head in a police station, where they supposedly were caught walking down the street, and were imprisoned. The report ended saying that three officers were killed, and the Winchester's bodies were found shot dead.

Jared leaned back in his chair. The reports simply didn't make sense! Dean had at least died three times if they were to be believed, Sam twice. They even had photo evidence! The report was supposed to shine light on the 'agents' and help everything make sense, but instead it just confused Jared even more. He felt as if he had stumbled into a different world. A contradicting world. Police and especially the feds weren't known for making mistakes or messing up this big. What happened? None of the possibilities that he came up with made a lick of sense, not even in his wildest dreams. And what was with the girl's blog that he read? There was no way Sam and Dean could be portrayed as the good guys in this mess. They had been caught red-handed in a few of the cases. The girl must be insane for sure. One thing was clear though. Sam and Dean Winchester were dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. That, and something weird was going on.

He was still lost in his thoughts when he heard a click outside his office. He looked up and noticed all the lights were out. He glanced at the time on his computer screen. Holy crap! It was two in the freakin' _morning_? He was amazed; he had sat in his office for _hours _while time disappeared. He heard another sound that snapped him out of his amazement. It sounded like a footstep. He quietly opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and under a mess of papers, Jared pulled out a .45 caliber M1911 pistol. He clicked off the safety as he walked towards his office door. The only light was coming from his monitor, so he wasn't too concerned about being seen. He pulled open his door and walked silently down the hallway, following the sound of numerous foot steps and click sounds. As he neared the end of the hallway, he could hear quiet voices drifting from around the corner. He peeked around the corner, and could see light spilling from underneath a door. As he neared it, he realized it was the cold storage where they kept all the bodies. He kept out of the light as much as possible and looked through the window.

He froze as soon as he did. Sam and Dean Winchester were inside the room. They were wearing jeans and leather jackets, just like in the picture he had found. They had their backs to the window thankfully. They had two of the victims drawers open and had pulled the sheets back. But how? Jared had the keys. How_ did_ they get in the building? It was locked down tight. He continued watching them as they pulled on gloves and got scalpels out. What _were_ they up to? Should he phone the police? They were serial killers... or most likely. He patted his pockets looking for his cell phone. Damn it! Then he remembered. Today would be the day that he dropped it in a puddle outside on his way to work. His rational brain was telling him to walk back to his office and phone the police, but the other part of his brain was saying that_ he_ was the one with the gun...

He crouched and ran past the windows to the door on the far side. He peeked in and noticed they were actually cutting into the corpses now. What kind of sickos were they? Their voices were louder now, but the door muffled the words so Jared couldn't understand them. He cautiously wrapped his hand around the door knob and turned it slowly, not making any noise. He slowly pushed it open a crack and their voices spilled through.

"Are you sure Sam?" asked Dean, pausing with his gloved hands inside the corpse's chest, "I mean, it sounds kind of far-fetched, even for us. Who knows, maybe the dragon clawed up the hearts by accident."

Jared stared open mouthed. Did he say _dragon_? He was making_ no sense_ whatsoever. Maybe they were insane. Yeah, that sounded pretty reasonable right about now.

"I'm positive Dean." Sam replied, working his hands in the corpse, doing something that Jared couldn't see. "The research says-"

"I know what the research says. But what if it's wrong?" Dean cut in, doubt clear in his voice.

"When has it been wrong before? At worst, we just check."

"Yeah, and cut up already mauled bodies," Dean muttered.

Jared pushed the door open more, slowly standing up and bringing his gun up from the floor to point at Dean, who was closest. He would bring these insane people in. He would shoot if necessary, but that would be last resort. He slowly stepped into the room, his heart pounding in his chest, while the brothers continued working, or whatever they were doing. Then Dean suddenly gasped. Jared froze and held his breath, thinking he had seen him, but Dean's exclamation proved otherwise, "There _are_ holes in their hearts. There's one in each chamber of the heart, just like you said!"

"Yeah, see told yo-"

Sam turned around unexpectedly and whipped into action when he saw Jared standing in the doorway, gun half raised. Jared's heart kicked into overtime, as he raised his gun the last of the way as fast as he could. The brothers moved so fast that he almost missed the action completely. Sam whipped out a gun from behind him somewhere, and Dean was already reaching for it before he even turned around. Two clicks of safeties and before he could even react, Jared was looking at the muzzles of two handguns pointed straight at him. He forced back a shudder at the cold, hard looks on their faces. Certainly when they realized they knew him, he saw the look soften, but the instant they had spun around, wielding guns, their faces showed that they were prepared to kill in an instant. They wouldn't even hesitate, and it frightened Jared.

"Who are you?" He demanded, trying to sound unafraid and in control.

"Put the gun down," Sam commanded, and Jared noticed that some of the same look he had seen, crept into Sam's eyes.

Jared hesitated. He wasn't in control, as much as he wished that he was. He wanted answers, damn it! But he also knew that they had two guns to his one. He didn't really have a choice. That and the Winchesters' unwavering stares were slightly unnerving, and reminded him that he was caught by two insane, serial killers who were experts at escaping. Great. Just fucking great. He slowly lowered his gun and set it on the ground, not looking away from the brothers the whole time.

"Now kick it over," Dean commanded this time. Jared did as he was told and kicked it over. Dean picked it up. He whistled quietly.

"Wow, well this is a nice gun," Dean looked up from examining it and smiled slightly at Jared. Sam shot Dean a disproving look, and Dean muttered, "Fine."

Jared stared, confused at what just happened. They really_ could_ communicate without talking.

"Who are you guys?" Jared spoke up, bringing up his curiosity.

"You already know, Jared," Dean said charmingly, smiling in an almost friendly way, if you ignored the hardness in his eyes and the guns in his hands.

"No, I mean really, Sam and Dean Winchester."

If Jared thought that the use of their real names would startle them, then he was right, and then some. They stiffened, and all pretense of friendliness was gone, and the hard look took over.

"Sam." Dean commanded, and nodded off to the side. Sam nodded in response and went to a olive green duffle bag that Jared hadn't noticed before. He started rummaging through it, and when he found what he was looking for he tossed it to Dean, and kept looking through the bag. Dean caught it, carefully balancing the weapons and the object he had just caught. He clicked the safety on Jared's gun and tossed it to Sam, and then proceeded to unscrew the cap off a silver flask.

"Who sent you?" Dean demanded, his voice cold and menacing.

"W-what?" sputtered Jared.

"Who sent you?" Dean repeated, and his voice became even more intimidating, if that was possible.

"What? N-no on-" Jared was cut off by water being splashed in his face. He sputtered and spit out water, coughing slightly. Dean frowned. He re-capped the flask, and said, "Here," nodding to a chair that Sam procured. He must have gotten it from a different room while Jared was focused on Dean, because there were no chairs originally in the cold storage. He took one look at Dean's glowering face and complied, sitting on the chair. Sam walked up to him carrying rope. Jared flinched but allowed him to tie him to the chair.

"He's not a demon," Muttered Dean. Wait, what? Had he heard him correctly? _Demon_?

Sam just nodded, and began pulling things out of the bag. Dean clicked the safety back on his gun and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Dean leaned forward and slammed his hands down on the armrests and leaned in close.

"Who sent you?" His voice was deadly quiet, and Jared couldn't help but stiffen and lean back.

"N-No one sent m-me. I swear!" He stuttered out. His heart was pounding and he was sweating; he didn't think he had been more scared in his life before. Dean stood up abruptly and stalked off, walking over to the pile that Sam had accumulated from the bag and selecting a knife. Jared swallowed and stared at Dean in terror as he twirled it around.

"Dean wait," Sam said quietly, as he studied Jared carefully. "Don't you think he would have monstered out by now, if he was one?" Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam continued on, "And why would he carry a gun if he was a monster? He wouldn't need it. He's definitely not a Leviathan or an angel either; they act completely different from how he's acting." Sam turned to Dean as he concluded, "I think he's human."

"But then how did he know our names?" Dean asked, still holding the knife as if he wanted to use it. Sam simply looked at Jared and waited. They both stared at him and he stuttered.

"Um, I was, uh, looking for you on the FBI database and I couldn't find you. Then I used my, uh, facial recognition program to find any hits on you guys and I found your real names." He answered weakly, feeling very nervous. They wouldn't kill him right? He had no idea what they were talking about. Obviously, they were being searched for, which was good in Jared's books.

"This program isn't available to everyone is it?" Sam asked, after about a minute of processing what Jared said.

"No, no. I made it myself through hacking." Jared answered, looking a little sheepish.

"Wait, why were you looking for us?" Dean cut in, his face puzzled, as he finally stopped spinning the knife.

"Er... I, uh, I... um... Isawyouguysinthealleyway." Jared finally sputtered out in a big rush, his face bright red. The brothers stood trying to decipher what Jared had said. Sam started blushing first, ducking his head and looking away. Dean looked confused until it hit him. He turned bright red and turned his back on Jared. A few moments of awkward silence and coughing from Dean followed, and Jared broke the silence, thinking now was the best time to change the subject and get answers.

"Who _are_ you guys? I've seen your police and FBI records..." A few seconds after Jared said that, he regretted it; it didn't seem like such a good idea to tell two killers that you knew all about their killing sprees. The brothers sighed and looked at each other, their blushes finally fading. Dean grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him off across the room to talk. They spoke in hushed tones and spoke fast; they leaned in as they talked, but they didn't seem to notice that they did so. Jared tugged at the ropes tying him to the chair and found that they were tied expertly well, which wasn't a surprise considering everything he had found about these two. A few minutes of hushed and urgent whispering, they walked back to him.

"Umm," Sam spoke up, but seemed at a loss of how to start. He looked to Dean on how to start, but he just shrugged. "So... uh, this might sound really weird but..." The taller man tried again. He opened his mouth to continue when suddenly another voice interrupted him.

"We don't have _time_ for this, ya' idjits! You know, saving the world ring a bell?"

The gruff voice came from an older man standing near the green bag. He was wearing a truckers cap and a vest and jeans. He had a beard and looked well-worn, as well as quite pale. But how did he get over there? He would have had to walk in front of Jared to get there from the door. Plus, the things he was saying weren't making sense. Saving the world? What?

"Bobby-" The taller one started but was cut off again.

"No! We have much larger fish to fry! Get a move on!" He sounded irritated and he glared at the brothers, only sparing a glance at the man tied to the chair.

And then, right before Jared's eyes, he disappeared. Gone. Poof. No longer standing there. Jared blinked and looked around the room. He wasn't any where to be seen. He knew his eyes were probably bulging out of his head and his mouth was open in shock, but he didn't care. _How_? Who was he? Maybe this was all a dream. A crazy, insane dream that he would wake up from. People didn't just disappear, and serial killers did not impersonate FBI agents.

"H-how? W-who was h-he?" Jared managed to stutter out in his amazed shock. He didn't receive an answer; the brothers were too busy packing up the stuff they had gotten out of their bag. Dean started cursing; now moving on to covering the corpses and rolling them away. He tore off his bloody gloves and tossed them in the garbage can, throwing the used scalpels in the sink on the way.

"He's right you know," Dean muttered to Sam, "We don't have time to deal with humans."

Jared didn't think he could get any more confused by what they were saying, but he was wrong. This was pointless. It was just a dream anyways. Just a dream. Just a dream. It was a pretty realistic feeling dream though...

Just when Sam was going to speak, the door slammed open, rebounding off the wall behind it. Three head whipped around to look who was there. Two men sauntered in. They were wearing suits and had easy going smiles on their faces, which only served to make them look creepy. They were about the same height, but one was much more muscular than the other. The lankier one was about one step behind the more built man. They were tall, and something about them made Jared shrink back in the chair. That was strange, you'd think he'd be happy to have someone save him from his potential killers, but these guys gave him the creeps. They only had eyes for the Winchester brothers though, and for that, Jared was strangely grateful.

"Well, Sam and Dean. If it isn't two annoying little ants." The heavier set man spoke up. Jared swallowed at the sound of his voice. It was smooth and slightly odd sounding, as if he was unused to the language. The Winchesters backed up slowly, heading towards their duffle bag, as the men strode in confidently. Why didn't the brothers pull out their guns? Jared knew they had then tucked in the back of their jeans. Sam reached the bag first. He bent down and ruffled through it before pulling out a large canister of something. The men started running at them fast, faster than seemed human. Dean whipped out his gun and started shooting round after round into the bulky guy that was charging him. He got off three rounds before the gun was batted out of his hands and he was slammed into the wall. Jared stared with wide eyes. That guy had three bullets in his chest and he was still moving! He didn't even flinch or slow down! Sam was struggling with the cap while he was dodging most of the blows the other guy was tossing. Dean was pinned against the wall, which Jared noticed with huge eyes, was cracked and dented. The force from his body hitting it had broken it! How hard had the man _thrown_ him? He was currently being punched repeatedly, stomach, face, stomach.

Jared should have felt joy at his rescuers winning, but instead he only felt a sinking feeling of dread. Finally Sam got the lid off, and splashed some of the clear liquid on the man's face. He screamed in agony and backed up, his hands covering his face, but not before Jared managed to get a look at his face. The skin was red and had _melted_ off. Bone was visible in some places, and Jared was horrified. What was that? Some sort of corrosive acid? Sam ran back to the bag while the man was distracted, and pulled out a machete. Holy crap! What, was that an arsenal of weapons? Jared watched in faint horror as Sam swung hard, beheading the man. Black goo splattered in a semi-circle as the body slumped to the floor. What was that stuff? Where was the blood?

Sam kicked the head across the room, and Jared watched with slight disgust as it rolled towards him, the eyes glazed and staring at him blankly. When he looked up, he noticed that Dean was pinned up the wall, his feet not touching the ground as he was being choked. Then the man holding him opened his mouth. A cracking sound could be heard before a maw opened up on the man's face, taking over half his face. Jared's blood seemed to run cold at the sight. The mouth was impossibly big and was filled with rows and rows of what looked like shark teeth. Two long tongues slipped out and slid across Dean's cheek. Dean thrashed and tried to turn away, his hands scrabbling at the hands around his throat. Blood slid down his face from where the tongues had slid, and the creature reared back, ready to strike. It never got the chance, because Sam came up from behind and gripped his hair and sawed through his neck, having slight trouble with the spinal cord. The head dropped to the floor and Dean dropped, gasping for air. Sam wiped his blacken hands on his jeans and picked up the head and walked over to their bag, calling over his shoulder, "You alright Dean?"

Dean answered with a raspy 'yes' as he rubbed his throat. Sam wrapped the head in a plastic bag and tied it shut. He was walking over towards the head near Jared, when he looked down. Jared yelped in fear because the eyes were _moving_ in the head. The head smiled at him, a large, feral smile and winked. He shuddered and closed his eyes. This could not be happening. People that didn't stay dead, people that appeared and disappeared, serial killers that pretended to be FBI, brothers that fucked; the list went on. He heard the rustle of plastic and assumed Sam was doing the same with this head as the other one.

He opened his eyes again and to his surprise, Dean was hurrying over to him with a knife. Jared paled, and leaned as far back as he could.

"N-no. Don't! Please!" He pleaded; terrified that he was going to be slaughtered just as easily as the men lying on the floor. Dean ignored him and slashed through the ropes binding his arms to the chair. Jared was surprised as he was freed. Sam had slung the bag over his shoulder and had a head in each hand. Dean flipped his blade shut and grabbed Jared's arm jerking him to his feet. Jared was transfixed by the pools of black goo that were spreading from the neck stumps of the bodies. No blood anywhere. What was this? Dean jerked him harder this time, making him stumble.

"Hurry up! More will be coming." Dean commanded, the urgency clear in his voice.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**I'm not sure if I like it yet... I've been toying with the idea of writing the same story from Sam or Dean's perspective. Let me know what you think.**


	2. Still Jared's Perspective

**Author's note:**

**So here is the promised second half! I had most of it finished when I posted the first half; I just couldn't find a better place to chop it than where I did. So sorry about the little cliffhanger; that wasn't really intentional. Enjoy!**

**A Different Perspective**

**Chapter 2: Still Jared's Perspective**

* * *

Jared let himself be dragged along, out of the room and down empty and dark hallways, his thoughts far away. What the hell had he stumbled into? Was this even real? Why was he letting himself be taken away by these serial killers? But then again, they seemed the favorable option in comparison to the unkillable _things_. Maybe he was going insane. Stuff like this didn't happen, couldn't happen. He was vaguely aware as they burst through the back doors and out into an alley way. He barely saw the black car before they were at it. He was shoved in the back seat, and two things were dropped in his lap before the door slammed. Sam and Dean leaped in the front seat, and Dean had the car turned on and was flooring it in what seemed like record time. Jared looked down and realized with horror that the things that had been dumped in his lap were the heads. He quickly shoved them off on to the floor on the far side of the car, as he shuddered.

"W-what the hell _were_ those things?" Jared almost yelled. He was still shaking, but he couldn't help it.

"Those were Leviathans," Sam replied, in a gentle tone. "They're, uh, monsters. We, um, hu-"

"Sam! We don't have time to talk to Mr. Terrified. They probably followed us. They still could be following us." Dean was speaking fast, and his voice had an undercurrent of something that Jared couldn't place. "How could they have followed us? Did you use a credit card?" His tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument. Jared's head swam. _Monsters_? This was turning out to be the worst night of his life. He felt as if he had stepping into a country were everyone was speaking a different language. What the hell was going on?

"No! Of course not!" Sam replied, somewhat indignant. "So what's the plan?" The brothers totally ignored Jared, and by the tone of their voices, it was urgent; more urgent than the problem of having practically kidnapping someone.

"We gank the dragon and get the hell out of this town as fast as possible." Dean replied, his eyes focused on the road and his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"But how? We don't know where it lives."

"Well, we know approximately."

"Well, what are we going to do with him?" Sam pointed to Jared in the backseat.

"I don't know; we can't exactly take him with us."

"Yeah, but we can't leave him on his own either. The question is, which one is less risky."

"What the hell is-" Jared started demanding, not liking how the brothers were talking about him as if he wasn't there.

"Shut up!" They shouted in unison, before they were back to talking hurriedly. Jared hunched down in the seat, and stared out the window instead. They were flying through town, barely slowly down around corners. He didn't even know where they were heading, but they were at least driving 30 miles over the speed limit. The fact that he didn't know where he was going, with people he didn't know, after witnessing them killing something he'd never even heard of before, should have worried him more than it was. He was probably in shock. When it hit him, he would probably be a wreck.

"I say we take him with us. We do have Bobby as back up, so it would really be three taking sets of eyes looking out for him."

"But we're putting his life in danger if we take him with us."

"He's already in danger with or without us." Sam pointed out.

After a moments pause, Dean replied, "Fine," in a terse manner. Both of the brothers looked very tense and keyed-up; their shoulders were stiff, and they were sitting in a very proper manner, looking around often. After a few minutes of tense silence, with the only noise the purr of the engine and squeal of tires as they tore around yet another corner, Sam reached over and brushed some of the blood trickling down Dean's face, off and looked at it. "How did this happen?" He asked as he wiped his fingers on his jeans.

"The Leviathan's tongues are barbed, kind of like a cat's, but much sharper." He replied softer than last time he'd spoken. Jared shifted in his seat, feeling supremely uncomfortable, like he was watching one of their 'private moments.'

The next few minutes in the car passed silently, and before Jared knew it, they were stopping in some dark, empty alley way. Why did it always have to be dark and empty? Did he want to follow these strangers? As it turned out they didn't give him much of a choice. The taller one yanked him out of the car and shut the door, still keeping a firm grip on his arm. Dean opened the trunk and pulled up a fake bottom. Underneath was an arsenal of weapons. Pretty much any weapon you could ever want or need, they had it, and then some seemingly useless things like some sticks and crosses.

"Fuck." He heard himself mutter. Of course, had he expected anything different out of killers? He just didn't think he'd live to see it. He couldn't believe the range of weapons, and everything in pairs. It made sense though, have two of everything, so each brother could have one. There were even some strange symbols drawn on the inside of the trunk. Jared didn't recognize any of them, though they looked cult-ish. Great, just add occult worshiper to the list of crazy that they already were. Dean ignored him and pulled out a sword, or rather, half of a sword; the top was snapped off. Who the hell even had swords anymore, let alone used them? Crazy people, that's who. Dean also grabbed two flashlights and tossed one to Sam who caught it neatly in his left hand. The shorter man shut the trunk and locked it before striding off down the alley way, apparently looking for something on the ground.

What he was looking for as it turned out, was a manhole cover. When he found it, he pried it up and shifted it to the side before putting his flashlight in his pocket and swinging his legs in, and starting to climb down carefully, with the sword still tightly in his grip. "You've _got_ to be kidding me," Jared said, looking back at Sam as he was pushed toward the dark gaping hole. What the hell were they even going to do down there?

"Look, if you don't want to die tonight, do everything we say," Sam deadpanned. Jared gulped and started climbing down the rungs. There was no light even, since both brothers didn't flick on their flashlights due to need of them for climbing down. The rungs were cold and felt slimy in his hands, and the farther Jared climbed, the warmer it got. He was glad when he heard footsteps followed by a click of a light. He looked down and could see Dean not a few feet below him, standing off to the side looking around the tunnel they had found themselves in, with his flashlight. When he reached the bottom, he stepped aside to make room for Sam and looked around him.

The tunnel was large enough that they didn't have to duck, but it was fairly small. The sides were damp, but thankfully not wet, and green stuff was growing on the walls. The air smelled musky and stale so deep under the surface. Dean's flashlight revealed that the tunnels looked like a labyrinth, as tunnels connected to the tunnel they were standing in and curved out of sight. Another click signaled that Sam was ready to go, and they started forward.

Sam nudged Jared, and he took it to mean that he would be stuck between the two brothers for the duration of their little trek. A few turns in and Jared was already lost down here. The Winchesters shone their flashlights down every tunnel they came across, clearly looking for something. What they could be looking for in the sewers was a mystery to Jared though. Eventually they came across a pile of golden things; rings, watches, chains. Dean gave a meaningful glance toward Sam, and Jared wondered what that was about. Dean leaned down and scooped a big handful which he stowed away in a pocket inside his leather jacket. Sam followed suit, and Jared wondered if they would care if he did so as well. He decided better of it, what if this was where they stashed their stolen goods?

They were hurrying now, and it was starting to get warmer. Jared wasn't sure if it was because they picked up the pace, or it really was getting warmer down here. The temperature kept rising and Jared started sweating; a quick glance showed him that Sam and Dean were too. Up ahead, it was starting to get lighter. The Winchesters turned off their flashlights and slowed down, moving silently now. A faint voice could be heard, but words couldn't be made out. They rounded a corner and a large, circular room greeted them. A few crudely made cages stood on one side, with three teenagers huddled at the back. A bunch of candles were lit all around the edge of the room, giving off light and minimal heat. In the center of the room stood a tall man, wearing a long black coat. A naked teen was at his feet begging, tears streaming down his face. The tall man had a tight grip on the teen's wrists, and Jared could see claws protruding from the digits.

Sam silently slid in front of Jared, placing a hand on his chest and pushing slightly. Jared thought that it meant, 'stay back,' and he was more than happy to comply. The brothers slowly crept forward, spreading out as they did so. They were about a quarter of the way in the room when the captive teen spotted them, and his glancing eyes gave them away. The man twirled around. He snarled when he saw them, and as he did so, Jared could see _fangs_ glistening in his mouth. He dropped the young man's wrists, and he scrabbled back as far as he could. The stranger advanced on the brothers, his eyes glowing a strange red-orange with a black slit pupil prominent in the middle of them and his hands started glowing a bright red. Jared's eyes widened; he could see heat curling off them. The strange man's eyes flicked to the ruined sword that Dean was carrying and asked, "What's that?" his eyes narrowing as he did so. The man had a strange way of talking; he lengthened his 's' sounds. A strange speech impediment to have.

"Oh, you know, just a sword. I heard you need one to kill a dragon." Dean spoke casually, but his body was anything but. He was tense and ready to spring.

"Oh, well, good luck," the man rumbled in response.

The man made the first strike, leaping forward, his right hand extended. Dean dodged to the side and swung the blade, which bit in to the left hand that was reaching for him. The blade sunk in to flesh and the man screamed and leaped back, cradling his arm. Strange orange cracks ran up and down from the wound, which glowed a brilliant almost yellow orange.

"Where did you get that?" The man asked, partially angry and partially amazed.

"Just our friendly pawn shop," Dean answered cheekily. Sam was steadily creeping around the edge of the room, trying to get behind the man, with a crowbar in his grip. He must have picked it up along the way, since he didn't have it when they were climbing down into the sewers. The man roared, actually roared, before he charged Dean again. This time he was more cautious, and he caught the broken blade tip as Dean swung it to hit his torso. The man hissed as he held the blade, and Jared could see more orange cracks forming on his skin. With his other hand, he struck at Dean. He leaped back as much as he could while still holding on to the sword, but evidently it wasn't enough because Dean screamed, and a few seconds later, Jared could smell burning flesh. Sam rushed up from behind him and hit him in the head with all his might using the crowbar. It loosened the tall man's grip on the blade and Dean jerked back, one hand pressed to his burn.

Jared blinked and almost missed it. One moment Sam was preparing for another blow and the next moment he was flying across the room to smash into the sewer walls. Jared could have sworn he saw large, leathery bat wings fling Sam off his feet. He blinked again, and the man was lunging across the room at Dean, trying to take his moment of distraction as an opportunity. Dean stumbled back, just barely dodging the man's red hands before he lunged forward himself, slashing at the man's chest. He caught the taller man across the side in a long gash. The taller man screamed and flared bright orange for a moment. Dean leaped in a last time and plunged his sword into the man's chest, disregarding the burning hands that grasped at him. The man shrieked and burned a bright orange colour, before flames were spreading from his wounds. The fire covered him completely and he burned up, leaving no trances of anything.

Jared rubbed his eyes. He was positive he wasn't on acid or drugs, but he could have sworn that the man Dean had been fighting had wings, claws, and fangs. Right now, all Jared wanted was for this day to be over. He wanted to wake up in his bed and remember this as a crazy and improbable dream. He glanced back to Dean to find him staring at the sword which he had dropped on the floor, shoulders slumped, chest heaving for breath as his hands pressed against his wounds. He waited a moment before he walked over to Sam to help him stand. He wobbled a little, and balanced himself against the wall. The naked teenager was slowly standing up, looking quite unsure of himself. Once Sam was standing, Dean hurried over to the cage and after a moment of fiddling with it, unlocked it and swung the door open. The males in the cage all looked at him in amazement.

"Come on, we don't have all day," He said gruffly as he turned and walked away. He picked up the sword and walked toward Jared, who was still standing in the same place; he had been rooted to the spot since the fight started. From fear or amazement, he couldn't tell. Dean led the way, and Jared trailed after the battered males, wondering why the naked one had to walk right in front of him. He could hear Sam's footsteps behind him and the clicks as flashlights were turned on. They wound their way back through the sewers and Jared wondered how the brothers knew where to go. They finally reached the manhole that they came from and began the climb up.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they all climbed out of the hole. Sam shut it after he got out, and the boys looked around the empty alley. Dean walked over to his car and open the trunk to stow the sword away. He quickly opened the side door and pulled out the heads and tossed them in as well, shutting the trunk before the boys could see what was inside. He had retrieved a blanket from the trunk, and handed it to the naked teen. He gratefully wrapped it around his shoulders, and clutched it close to him.

Dean waved his hand toward the car, and the boys tumbled in, one in the front between Sam and Dean and three crammed in the back with Jared. It would be his luck to end up next to the naked one. At least he was wearing a blanket. As the car rumbled to life, Dean spoke, "We're taking you to the police station. For your own benefit, don't mention us or what you witnessed down in the sewers."

"What was that?" One of the boys in the backseat spoke up.

"It was a dragon; they like gold and prey on virgins." Dean replied. His voice sounded weary, and when Jared looked at him, he looked very tired. He had bags under his eyes, and his shoulders were tensed, probably with pain from his wounds. His face had some grime on it from the sewers and his hair was matted with blood and black goo. The boys were all silent, thinking over what they had been told. Jared supposed with what they had seen, there wasn't much else to believe.

Wait... did that mean everything that he had seen tonight was true? The things he saw actually happened? This wasn't some dream? He wasn't high? His head spun with the revelation. Could it possibly...?

He rested his head against the glass and shut his eyes. He wanted to stop thinking. The drive was silent the rest of the way, and he almost fell asleep. They reached the station pretty quickly, having no traffic this early in the morning. Sam got out, allowing the boy sitting in the middle to get out, and the boys in the back all slid out. They stood in a huddle in front of the station on the sidewalk and watched them drive away. Dean drove fairly reasonably through the city, but as soon as he got on the highway, he floored it. With his mind still churning over the possibilities, Jared spoke up.

"Okay, what the HELL is going on?" He demanded loudly, even to himself. He was freaking out; his heart was racing and he was breathing hard. It seemed like everything that he seen was catching up to him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he waited for them to reply.

"Can we talk about this later?" Sam spoke up, his voice weary as he looked over the seat at Jared.

"NO, we can't!" Jared shouted. "I just watched you kill three men! You kept the heads of two of them, and one of them had wings and claws and glowing eyes and fangs, and the other two wouldn't die after you shot them three times and they didn't bleed and I found out that you're serial killers and the FBI wants you and you have an arsenal of weapons in your trunk and you have a disappearing friend!"

Jared was yelling now, nearly hysterical as he recounted his night. His eyes wildly flicked between the brothers, and he panted, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap.

"Monsters are real. Is that blunt enough for you?" Dean snapped from the driver's seat. Jared stilled in the back seat, his eyes wide. No way...

"Everything you ever read or heard about is real; everything that goes bump in the night. We hunt them as our job." Dean practically snarled. Jared stared at the back of Dean's head in amazement, before he turned to look out the window to think. Was it possible? But there was no other explanation that he had that could come even close to making sense. The thing that Dean had killed_ had_ had wings and claws... The man that Dean had shot three times didn't die and didn't bleed...

Jared didn't see anything his eyes were looking at for a good couple of hours as he tried to come to grips with this new revelation. At one point, he realized he was shaking, and he probably had been for some time already. What he wouldn't give for a smoke right now.

"Are vampires real?" He spoke up after a couple of hours.

"Yes," Dean answered.

"Werewolves?"

"Yes."

"Shapeshifters?"

"Still yes."

"Ghosts?"

"Yes."

"Zombies?"

"Yes, yes, YES! Pretty much anything you can think of," Dean answered exasperated.

"You forgot angels and demons," Sam muttered sleepily; Jared had thought he was sleeping. They had stopped for one of the numerous coffee breaks; Dean had to stay awake since he was driving, and Sam hadn't gotten out. Jared had gone to buy smokes, but as soon as Dean saw what he was reaching for, he said that he didn't want, 'anything foul stinking up his baby.' After seeing Jared's look, he quickly clarified that by 'baby,' he meant his car.

"_Angels_ are real?" Jared exclaimed. Well at least that was one positive thing...

"Yeah, they're real dicks and a pain in the ass." Dean grumbled.

"Except Cas," Sam whispered.

Jared noticed Dean stiffen completely at the name and wondered what happened. Dean clenched his jaw, and a muscle in his cheek stood out. His shoulders tensed completely and his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. The car sped up, as Dean got more and more agitated. Sam seemed to have fallen asleep completely, resting his head against the window, not noticing the effect his words had on his brother. Jared decided to reign in his curiosity, because the heavy atmosphere clearly pointed that something happened with this 'Cas' person, and it put Dean in a terrible mood. He retreated into his thoughts, mulling over the new information he had, escaping the tense silence.

Miles passed beneath the wheels of the car, and hours flew by. They drove through states, passed cities, over mountains. Jared had dozed a couple of hours, and he was surprised that Dean was still functioning and driving. In the last few hours, he had been shifting in his seat more often. Sam must have noticed now that he was rested because he told him to pull over. Dean complied, and when they were completely stopped, he got Dean to open trunk. Dean sat on the passenger seat with his legs out the door as Sam returned with a first aid kit in hand. He looked at Dean and he seemed to wilt under his look. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. After he had pulled it off, he added his undershirt to the growing clothes pile.

Jared couldn't help but stare. Dean was well built, and had a toned chest and well-defined pecs. There was a ring of dark purple bruises around his neck from the first creatures that had attacked them. Jared also noticed a large bruise, about the size of his fist, blossoming across Dean's stomach. There was also a angry red, bubbly looking burn on his left wrist, wrapping completely around it. Sam opened a little tube he had pulled out and squirted some clear gel on his fingers. He rubbed the salve on the burn, and after wiping his fingers off on his pants, he wrapped it up with a roll of white gauze. Then he wrapped a more solid looking white material around it and taped the end down. He then moved to the larger burn located on Dean's right shoulder and repeated the process. He packed up the first aid kit quickly and when Dean made to move to the driver's seat, Sam stopped him.

"Dean, no. You are having a rest now. I'll drive."

Dean didn't really resist, and Sam put the kit back in the trunk before sliding into the driver's seat. They merged back into the highway, and Dean was sleeping in a couple of minutes.

They drove until it was dark out. Sam pulled into a little town in the middle of nowhere and pulled into the parking lot of a hotel. Dean had woken up a couple of hours ago when they had stopped for silent dinner in a little greasy diner. Sam turned off the car, and jogged inside, intent on getting them rooms. He came back ten minutes later, two keys in hand. Dean slid out of the car and walked to the trunk, waiting for Sam to open it. When he did, he pulled out two bags, and shut it. Sam handed Jared one of the room keys; the tag said '117.'

They walked to their rooms, and Jared noticed that Sam and Dean had the room next to him. He unlocked his room and entered. The cheap hotel room had two double beds, with some blue swirled design on the comforters. The walls were a plain beige colour with paintings on the wall of scenery. A small TV sat on a low dresser, and a table and set of chairs sat by the door on the little section of tiles. A door near the back headed to the bathroom. The carpet was so stained it was hard to tell what the original colour was, but Jared was too tired to care. He flopped onto the closest bed and lay there, trying to muster up the motivation to pull off his shoes and undress. A knock on the door had him reluctantly getting up and unlocking the door. Sam walked in with a bag of salt in hand.

"What's that for?" Jared asked sleepily.

"Most monsters can't cross salt lines," Sam answered as he made a salt line across the door and window. "Don't break the line." He added as he left. Jared stared for a moment before shutting the door and locking it. A _line of salt_ was supposed to keep out super-strength _monsters_? Ridiculous. Just another reminder of how weird his life had just became. He kicked off his shoes and quickly stripped down before sliding under the covers and turning out the lights. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

Jared woke up, feeling very disorientated and confused. The sun was shining in through the cracks in the curtains and creating little lines on the floor. How late was it? He felt as though his sense of day and time was off kilter. Jared glanced at the digital clock sitting on the nightstand; it blared 1:37 in its neon red numbers. No wonder he felt so off balance; he rarely slept this late, if ever. He sighed from where he was laying on the squeaky motel bed; he had hoped this would all just be a dream. The salt lines by the door and window reminded him that no, this was not a dream, and horrible nightmarish things did roam the earth. He didn't know how long he laid there, his mind going in circles over monsters, FBI, Sam and Dean Winchester, his life. His bladder eventually made itself known, and he had to run to the bathroom to relieve himself. He took a long, relaxing shower, trying to get all the grime off his skin. After he had washed his hair and body, he stood in the hot spray, wishing the water could wash away all his problems. He got out, much less stiff and sore, and was disappointed to have to wear the same clothes he'd been wearing for almost three days. Since he wasn't at work, he would forgo the tie and suit jacket. He rolled up the sleeves of his button up black shirt to make it look more casual. He stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflection.

Okay, he'd admit it to himself; he looked like shit. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his brown eyes even looked weary. How was that possible? It was just an iris! Maybe it was just him being paranoid, but he was sure he could see wrinkles that hadn't been there before. His hair was damp from the shower, but before, it had been matted and greasy, sticking up all over the place. Even his posture looked defeated; his shoulders were slumped, and he noticed he kept his head lower than normal, almost as if he was protecting his neck. He straightened up and cracked his back, trying to feel closer to his 'normal.' His clothes looked a little too formal to be everyday wear; it was the dress pants that did it.

He stepped back into the main room and wondered what to do. Was he supposed to knock on the Winchesters' door? But what if they were in the middle of... doing something? That would be terrible timing, not to mention would mentally scar him for life. Was he supposed to leave on his own? But he didn't have much with him; would it even be enough to go home? Should he go home? Would he be allowed to? Would those monsters, those Leviathans, be waiting for him? He had so many questions to ask the Winchesters: Could he return to his everyday life? Would monsters come for him? What would he do if that happened? He decided to watch TV until further notice, since he was so unsure of what to do, and since he wanted his questions answered. He flicked through the channels looking for something good to watch. Nothing really appealed to him, so he settled on a food network show. Bad idea. Since he hadn't eaten in hours, his stomach rumbled whenever anything particularly appetizing was shown. Almost everything the professional chefs cooked up look good; not the clams though. He wasn't a large fan of seafood. He picked up the remote and changed the channel since it was making him too hungry, and settled on some police crime show; these shows were everywhere!

He was only half paying attention to the show when he heard the first noise; most of his attention had been turned to his thoughts on how his life would change from meeting these men. It sounded like a thump from the room next door. That was the Winchesters' room right? Did something happen? Was something attacking them? He listened intently for a minute or so. No more noises came. That could be good or bad right? They could have killed the being that was attacking them, if it so happened. Or, it could be the monster subduing one of them... Jared's mind raced through all the possibilities: a monster that wasn't held back by salt sneaking in while they were sleeping, one of them breaking the salt line by accident while a monster came charging through the door, the FBI finally catching up to them. He wondered if he should check on them. What if they were in danger? His rational mind returned to him because, duh, what help would he be against monsters? He just learned about them for goodness' sake! They were the experts.

He settled again against the headboard and tried to concentrate on what the coroner had found on the body that was so important. He had just found out the reason why the victim's bones broke so easily when he heard a faint moan from next door. He sat bolt upright. Was that a moan of pain? When a louder one followed the first one, he quickly concluded that no, those were not noises born of pain. He hunched over a little and hoped -prayed- that they weren't doing what he thought they were doing. When he heard a quiet groaned, 'Dean,' he turned up the volume on the TV. Jared determinedly tried to pay attention to the show; problem was, the producers got a bunch of things wrong about a coroner's job and about corpses, and it irritated Jared to no end. That's why he usually didn't watch these shows.

As the moans from the Winchesters grew louder, he turned up the TV accordingly. The only problem was, it was never enough to quite drown out the, 'Oh-h-h Dean!' or the 'oh god, Sammy' since the sound of the show had its lulls. Sometimes there would be loud sections of intense music and he would enjoy moments of not being able to hear the sound of the brother's pleasure while other times there would be scenes of quiet dialog. In the quiet parts, he could hear them loud and clear, moaning away next door. Sometimes it was just profanities, and other times it was mangled versions of each other's names. A quiet commercial flashed across the screen, and just then, Jared could hear through the wall, "De-a-n! Oh- oh -oh! I'm gonna-oh!- Deaaan!" He clapped his hands over his ears and wished he could un-hear every noise.

A slight pause followed what sounded like Sam's climax and Jared began to relax; maybe they were done now. A few minutes later though, he could hear a faint groan and the sound of bed springs. Jared groaned and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. Why did they have to do this_ now_? Couldn't they wait until he'd left? The moans were gradually getting louder again, and the bed seemed to be shrieking in protest to what the brothers were doing over there on it. Jared covered his ears again because the tv just could not get loud enough. A bang behind him startled him. He jerked upright, and when a second bang followed, he realized with disgust that it was the headboard hitting against the wall. He grabbed his pillow and jammed it over his head, hoping to muffle the sounds of Sam and Dean making love next door. With the sounds already supplied, his mind all too easily imagined what was going on, on the other side of the wall.

"Ohhhh... Fuck Sammy! You're so tight!"

As soon as Jared heard that, he scrambled off the bed as fast as he could and ran to the bathroom and shut the door. It was a little quieter in the separate room, but he could still hear the constant beat of the headboard. He was thankful that he couldn't hear their voices though. He wasn't sure how he was going to face them later that afternoon when they were going to leave. He didn't think he would be able to look them in the eyes. His relief was short-lived however when he heard an ecstasy-filled scream. Holy fuck! They were not trying to be quiet _at all_. They could still be heard through _a wall_ and _a door_. Good grief! He covered his ears again once he sat down leaning against the bathtub, since he could still hear long, filthy moans. Even with his ears covered, he could still hear the pleasure duet that was being sung from the room next to his.

The banging headboard stepped up the tempo, and the groans and screams got _louder_, if that was possible. They definitely would receive a phone call from the office. He picked a random song, which turned out to be 'Major Tom' and started humming it, hoping to drown out the building orgasm-induced moans.

_Standing there alone _

"Oh-h-h! Fuck! Right there!"

_The ship is waiting, all systems are go_

"God, Sammy! Fu-ck yeah!"

_'Are you sure?' Control is not convinced_

"De-e-a-n! Ohhh...Harder!"

_But the computer has the evidence_

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!"

_No need to abort; the countdown starts_

"Dean! Deeaahhh! I'm gonna- gonna!-"

_Waiting in a trance, the crew is certain_

"Oh Sammy! Come -oh-h- for me!"

_Nothing left to chance; all it working_

"Oh god-oh god-ohgodohgod- Deeeaa-aa-n!"

_Trying to relax, up in the capsule_

"Fuck, fuck, fuck -oh fuck! Samm-my!

_'Send me up a drink' jokes Major Tom _

_The count goes on, 4, 3, 2, 1..._

_Earth below us, drifting, falling_

_Floating weightless_

_Calling, calling home_

Once he got through the chorus without being interrupted, he figured they were done. He stayed in the bathroom and finished the song just to be sure. He leaned against the bathtub for an indeterminable amount of time after that, trying to get the sound and the images his mind supplied out of his head. He started counting multiples of three as far as he could, even though he disliked at math; anything to distract his mind. He got up to 348 until he got too frustrated and kept almost losing his place in the number scale. He finally got up and stretched his stiff muscles and found out that his foot was asleep. He put pressure on it and massaged it until the pins-and-needles sensation went away. He opened the door and stepped back into the main room, immediately turning down the volume of the TV, which was blasting.

The show he had been watching had ended and a new crime scene investigation was going flashing across the screen. He ended up watching the whole episode, but he couldn't quite remember what it was about. As a new show came on, he wondered if he should just leave. Which would be worse, waiting for the brothers and having an awkward chat before leaving, or leaving and never getting his questions answered? After a few minutes of debating it, he decided, fuck it, he was leaving. He didn't think he could face the brothers anyways. A knock on his door startled him out of his decision. He walked over and peered through the peephole. Sam was standing looking at the door politely while Dean stood a few feet back, looking into the parking lot. Jared hesitated before opening the door.

"Good afternoon," Sam said politely when the door swung inwards. "How about we go for lunch?"

Jared simply nodded; his gaze fixed somewhere over Sam's shoulder, his face slightly red. He couldn't help but notice a few hickeys on his neck, and he looked down at his feet and shuffled them. When Sam asked for it, he handed over his key, and Sam went and checked out. Jared followed Dean to the car and tried very hard not to think about all the sounds he had heard from him. He noticed new bruises on his neck as well. Jared settled into the backseat and stared out the window. He could tell Dean noticed the awkward atmosphere by the way he wouldn't look at Jared and as soon as he turned the car on, cranked up the music so it was too loud to talk. They cruised up to the office and waited until Sam came back. When he got in the car, Sam didn't comment on the volume of the music.

The cafe they stopped at was pretty full, which Jared took to be a good sign. All these people couldn't be wrong about food quality right? A beautiful hostess showed them to their seat, and Jared felt awkward sitting across from the brothers, almost having no choice but to look at them. He propped the menu in front of his face, using it as a shield. He was barely paying attention, and when their waitress came to take their orders he picked something random to eat. Once the menus were gone however, he didn't have anything to hide behind. He cleared his throat and rearranged his cutlery, napkin and glass of water. Jared decided as long as he had to sit there awkwardly with the two brothers, he may as well get some answers.

"Uh, will I be able to go back to living my normal life after those, um, monster incidents?" He mumbled out, clearing his throat after he finished.

"Yes, you should be able to; I don't think they will bother you," Sam responded cheerfully, as if trying to dispel the awkwardness. _Good luck buddy, it was your choice to fuck_.

"So, what should I do if a, er, monster comes after me?"

"Well, the primary three things to use against it would be salt, silver, and iron. Most monsters are susceptible to those three things; of course the rare ones are a little trickier and usually require more finicky weapons..." Sam droned on; Dean occasionally adding something.

"Here is our card. Just call if you ever need us," Dean said, pulling a white business card out of his wallet. It was quite simple; it had their names and two cell phone numbers on it. Jared assumed they each had one. It didn't mention who they were or what they did; probably the most practical thing since they were wanted by the police and FBI.

Their waitress came back surprisingly fast with their food, and Jared was secretly grateful. They ate mainly in silence; attempts at small talk were made, but it seemed forced and ended with awkward silences, so they stopped trying. Jared was glad that they stopped; he was tired of pretending not to be awkward, pretending to have not heard them fuck, pretending he wasn't still freaked out by the monsters revelation. They ate fast, each wanting to leave for different reasons. The plates were cleared and the bill was paid. Jared was faintly surprised that the waitress hadn't commented on the aura around them; the awkwardness was tangible. But then again, she had been extra friendly and talked a lot.

The drive through town was much like the drive to the diner; the only sound was the 80's music that Dean was playing. Jared didn't ask were they were going and they didn't tell, but he wasn't too surprised when they arrived at a bus station. Dean shut off the car and they all got out. They said their awkward goodbyes; Jared chanced a look in their eyes before he left, and it made Sam flush a little. Head nods all around, no hand shakes or hugs, and Jared was perfectly okay with that. He wanted to board that bus and forget this ever happened. He wanted to return to his normal life and maybe find a girl soon. Settle into a better apartment definitely.

But though he didn't know it yet, in his apartment, he would always have a large bag of salt nearby and a silver knife tucked away in his room next to his handgun in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. An iron rod could be found in the umbrella stand, while buried deep in his wallet, a simple white business card was wrinkled from so many times of pulling it out and looking at it, just to make sure the events really occurred, could be found. And his friends would say that he definitely changed sometime in that past year, even if they couldn't pin point the exact date. They said he got quieter, more cautious and seemed to pay attention to the news more. What they didn't know, was that he was always looking for news of a certain pair of brothers. But Jared didn't know any of that as he boarded the bus and watched the Winchesters drive off in their old, black car.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**So my first ever posted story/one-shot is complete! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I'm kind of working on a Cas/Dean story next, so let's see if I can get it finished!**


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